Steve and his Newfound Friends
by hkhkcat
Summary: It was a dark and stormy night. What happens next? I'm not telling you.
1. Introduction

Introduction (as you probably already know)

A helpful hint: As in most other stories, words set by the narrator and the typer (me, hkhkcat) are said in bold. Hopefully you are able to discern which is which.

How? How many people have wondered why ocelots don't get enough respect in Minecraft. All people do is either domesticate them to make them cute kittens or kill 'em. Well, after this you'll be having second thoughts. (to the tune of some random show tune) "LET THEM RUN FREEEEEEE!" And now for the story. Wait, one last thing. All intros are short, but I am pretty sure this one is the shortest. DON'T JUDGE.


	2. The Becoming

Steven Oliver Smith was lying on his comfortable bed. His son, Peter, ran in from the kitchen. "Stevie dad!" he called. "Pway baseball with me!"

**Hey that sounds like my brother**

**shut up hkhkcat**

"Stevie dad!" he called. "Pway baseball with me!" He brought in the bat and the glove. "Dada! Pway with me!" He then whacked the bed with the bad. His "dada" was still asleep. "Whaaat?" his dad asked, slowly sitting up. The kid whacked the bed again.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! said the innocent, lisping seven-year-old.

"Okay, okay!" quickly cried the dad, jumping out of his bed and into his shoes in the time of just a couple seconds. Seeing his kid whacking the bed with the heavy baseball bat frightened him a little bit, especially with the morbid things he had seen him talking about to his friends.

They ran and the kid hit the ball more times. An innocent black cat ran into their yard and ran across the path of Steve and his child. It meowed cutely.

**Is that the best adjective you can do hkhkcat?**

**It isn't my fault you didn't send me to school for an English class.**

But as Steve saw the cat coming closer and closer to him, he got freaked out. "Son? Why are you so small?" Steve asked. A ginger cat then ran into the yard. Then a brown tabby. Then a gray tortoiseshell. Then another black and white speckled one. They kept flooding in like waves until the ground was completely covered with them.

Steve found them talking to him. "Hello Stevewhisker!" they said. "And hello, Petepaw!"

"How are you talking?" he tried to say. But the cats kept repeating those words over and over. Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over.


	3. Ocelots, not Leopards

It was cold. It was very cold. It was colder than you could ever have imagined. All Steve and Pete had to keep them warm was their fur.

Wait?

Their fur?

**Yes. I said **_**fur.**_

Fur?

**Yes.**

Fur?

**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHH!**

Yes, fur. Steven Oliver and Petie Henry had _**fur.**_ They were cats. They were cats. They were officially cats, living in a blocky world. Yes, the world was blocky. And I know you can guess what world they were in. It was titled "Steve petie and the kitties."

Both Steve and Petie were striking yellow and black spotted cats. "I feel so alive!" Petie said. "I knew I was always destined for life as a cat!"

"Are you KIDDING MEMEMMEMEMMEMMEMEMEMEMMEMEMEMEMEME?" his father said. "What if we die as a leopard?"

"Excuse me?" said a lean and lithe black cat with green eyes, stepping out from behind a rectangular tree. "You are an ocelot. Know your facts, buddy!"

Steve. Was. Starstruck.

"Who are you?" he asked, in a daze.

"Me?" the cat asked. "I am Spiritshadow, the keeper of all things alone. You would do well to stay away from me, being unfamiliar with this world and all the . . . complications . . . that come with it." With that, she slowly padded away, her thin tail down and her heart moving away every step she took.

"Who's dat dada?" Petie asked.

Steve did not answer his son. His eyes only looked at the paw prints that were left in the fine sand of the jungle.


End file.
